


All That Glitters

by NoirSongbird



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blowjobs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, F/M, Mentioned Mei/Gabriel, Mentioned Symmenji, Mild Humiliation, PWP, Riding, Sexy Birthday Presents, Spanking, Unrealistic Sex, Vaginal Sex, sex on a pile of money, strip clubs, supersoldiers can just go and go man, unrealistic stamina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Jack Morrison is celebrating his 56th birthday and his 25th year of leading Overwatch - and his friends decide to get him a particularly special gift.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another commissioned piece from the same lovely anon who commissioned the "Caught in Your Web" series! The first fic I've done that I would definitively call Porn Without Plot, and it was a ton of fun! I hope y'all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing~

In the grand scheme of things, a trip to a strip club was really not a terrible place to go for a 56th birthday party that was also sort of a celebration of leading Overwatch for 25 years, but for Jack Morrison, it was mostly just uninteresting.

The club was one of the most famous ones in Zurich, and the Overwatch group had reserved a VIP table, so they were out of the main bustle of the place, but there was still plenty going on - loud, pulsing music, gorgeous girls gyrating around poles in time with the beat, flashing lights, scantily-clad women coming by with drinks and food that kept the conversation flowing around the table.

He’d been to a lot of strip clubs over the years, and this was absolutely one of the better ones, but really, the conversation here was much more interesting than the girls. He gave the stage the occasional glance, but mostly, he was here for his friends - Gabe, Reinhardt, McCree, both Shimadas, Torbjorn, and a few others. Predominantly he was glad the three people who’d been with him since the beginning were  _ still  _ there. Reinhardt had rumbled about retiring, sure, but on large he seemed perfectly happy to still be fighting the good fight and, specifically right then, in plying Jack with rather a lot of beers. Jack had no idea what he’d do if Gabe ever quit on him, because he’d spent twenty-five years relying on his best friend and SIC to have his back. Torbjorn, Jack suspected, would retire from making their weapons when he was forcibly retired, which was good, because there was no one else he trusted to make sure he and his team were properly equipped to save the damn world once a week.

Everyone was dressed fairly well - even McCree had been wrangled into a suit, though he was still wearing a cowboy hat. A nicer one than usual, black and fine leather, and the girls working at the club seemed to be getting a kick out of it, so Jack was willing to let it go, he supposed.

It had been something of a long day, given the dual commemorations going on, for both him personally and his leadership of Overwatch. There had been some stodgy official ceremonies, a commendation from the UN, a live interview where he talked about the legacy of Overwatch and his plans going forward - which were, honestly, to keep going as they were; now that Blackwatch was mostly folded in after a nearly-disastrous set of incidents a few years back, Overwatch was doing better than ever. There had been an uptick in recruitment lately, which was good - except that so many of the recruits were so damned  _ young,  _ and as much shit as he’d given Gabe years before over how parental he’d acted towards McCree, Jack caught himself doing the same damn things to these new kids. 

Genji was telling a story, something out of his practice session from earlier that day, and he was laughing the entire time, a sure sign that even with his cyborg metabolism, he was well on his way to drunk. 

“I’d never met this architech face-to-face,” he said, waving the glass a little, “and I had _no idea_ what she could do, so imagine my surprise when a ball of blue energy knocks me on my ass,” he continued. His brother rolled his eyes.

“And that is why you  _ learn  _ these things,” he said dryly. Genji waved him off.

“Not important!” He declared, taking a drink. “So there I am, lying on the ground, and this...this perfect woman walks up to me, pointing her practice gun at my chest.  _ Perfect,  _ really, I mean it, legs for days in these tiny shorts under a little dress that covered  _ nothing,  _ and I think I asked her out loud to step on me.” That drew a round of laughter from the table. “She raises an eyebrow, looks me over, and says  _ perhaps another time, _ and then she shoots me again and walks off.” He put a hand on his chest. “I think I’m in love.”

“For the dozenth time,” Hanzo said, sounding unimpressed. Getting both brothers at the same table was, in Jack’s experience, a free route to a hell of a lot of entertainment, so he was glad they’d both agreed to come.

“Aniki! You’re so cruel,” Genji said, and this time he placed his hand on his heart as if stricken. “I have a lot of love to give!”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jack said dryly. “How much have you tipped just tonight? These girls must love you,” he said.

“I’m a generous man,” Genji replied magnanimously, as a scantily-clad waitress came by to deliver him a drink and he slipped a credit chip into her bra. She blew him a kiss, and he ghave her a wink, and Jack laughed.

Tonight was about good company, good drinks, and gorgeous women.

Perhaps he could have gone for better women, though. None of these were really doing it for him - maybe he was just spoiled by being surrounded by gorgeous, dangerous, brilliant ladies day in and day out. The caliber of woman he dealt with in Overwatch had definitely raised his standards as a whole, and while every woman in this place was gorgeous - Genji wasn’t kidding about their new resident architech, and she sure as hell wasn’t the only one, even  _ Ana  _ was a fox well into her sixties - none of them could  _ quite  _ compare. 

Still, with the encouragement of his friends, he definitely gladly accepted a lapdance or two. Genji seemed particularly enthused about buying them for him, and McCree was absolutely terrible about egging the kid on, because McCree, like his mentor, was an absolutely terrible influence on everyone around him.

They were good enough - not really what got his motor running, but that wasn’t their fault. The girls who performed for him were talented and enthusiastic, Jack just had very particular standards for women, and none of them were  _ quite  _ what he wanted.

Jack was, by nature, a pretty good tipper himself, though, and he was fairly certain their group would be welcomed back any time, given how much money had changed hands in the course of the evening. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford it- members of Overwatch were well-compensated for keeping the world safe, and if they wanted to spend their personal cash on the occasional bender, really, in Jack’s opinion, that was perfectly fine. They spent their lives helping people; they all deserved a little fun, especially him,  _ especially  _ on his goddamn 56th birthday.

They left late, close to the club’s closing time, and it was only by the grace of his supersoldier metabolism that Jack wasn’t completely sloshed - Reinhardt was wobbling a little and even Hanzo was laughing louder and harder than he ever really did, but both Jack and Gabe were still pretty damn put together.

“Come on, Jack, we left a gift for you in your quarters,” Gabe said, dragging him in that direction once they were back on base. Reinhardt let out a loud, hearty laugh, and Genji tittered a little, a rather interesting sound when run through his vocal filters.

“We think you will enjoy it very much, Commander,” Reinhardt boomed, and Jack eyed the whole lot of them slightly warily. He trusted them implicitly, of course, but he also  _ knew them  _ too well to suspect anything but foul play, here. Especially Genji - and, surprisingly enough, the seemingly stoic Hanzo had a terrible pranking streak. He suspected the brothers brought it out in each other, but being surrounded by people like Gabriel and McCree couldn’t  _ help. _

“Right, sure,” he said dryly, and that sent Genji into a fit of hysterical laughter. Gabe steered him towards his room, and then practically shoved him through the door, slamming it behind him. Jack heard the lock click from outside, and by then he was  _ certain  _ he was going to end up doused in Gatorade or some other, equally ridiculous prank was about to trigger, because really, he spent his days surrounded by people who were both the finest soldiers in the world, his best friends, and also  _ complete assholes. _

“Ha ha, guys, you’re hilarious, open the damn…” Jack began, but there was a polite little cough, and he turned to face the bed, and all thought of leaving the room was gone.

Lying on his bed, on top of a pile of gold coins that covered the entire thing, was  _ without question  _ the most beautiful woman he’d seen all night. Her skin was a pale blue, the result of physical modifications she had submitted to in order to enhance her sniping prowess. Long cascades of dark hair fell around her shoulders, and black lacy lingerie hugged her form - a delicate-looking bra, matching panties, and thigh-high stockings starting with a garter and ending in gorgeous stiletto heels that drew his eyes to her legs. 

God, she had legs for  _ days. _

_ That  _ was the type of woman he’d been hoping for all goddamn night. That was  _ Amélie Lacroix.  _ The Widowmaker. Probably the most dangerous woman alive, a bounty hunter and sometimes assassin for a group known as Talon. They were an underground mercenary group who operated outside the law, which made them useful to know, and she in particular had a reputation for always getting the job done, no matter  _ what  _ the job was.

Jack knew Gabe had contacts with Talon through work with the black-ops mercenary group - and this  _ had  _ to be at least partly his work - but  _ damn.  _ He hadn’t assumed “contacts with Talon” meant “could get one of their assassins to show up in lingerie for a friend’s birthday.” Perhaps his contact, then,  _ was  _ the Widowmaker, or they’d hit it off on some covert op or other - whatever it was, here  _ she  _ was, and apparently she had been willing to wait what he could only assume was quite a while.

“I figured she was your type,” Gabe said dryly, “young, hot, able to kill a man from a kilometer away. Anyway, happy birthday, old man. Have fun!” There were footsteps outside, and the sound of everyone moving away, and that was enough to get Jack’s head entirely in the game of  _ getting his hands on Amélie Lacroix immediately. _

“God fucking  _ damn,” _ Jack growled, voice low, prowling over to the bed and pinning Amélie down underneath him, making the coins spread under them jingle. A few slipped off the bed and clattered onto the floor, but he didn’t really bother paying attention to them beyond a cursory glance over to see what, exactly, the sound was. There was something - or, rather,  _ someone  _  - far more interesting holding his attention She gave him a broad smile, and he didn’t bother waiting to touch her, running his hands over her sides, down to her hips, and he slid them under to get a handful of her ass. Perfect, as he’d assumed - soft, round, full, and bigger than he could really get his hands around. God  _ damn,  _ he was going to have fun with her.

“I heard it was the great Strike-Commander’s birthday,”  she teased, playfully, “and your friends seemed to think you would...enjoy this sort of gift.” That sent a shock of arousal crawling down his spine. She knew, and she’d  _ agreed,  _ and - hot fucking damn, he was going to get to have his way with  _ Amélie Lacroix. _

“They were right,” Jack growled, and he leaned in and started kissing down her neck, drawing a pleasurable little gasp from the woman underneath him. He sank his teeth in as he went, leaving hickies dotting her skin, little marks that would serve to remind her, for days after this, he hoped, that she’d been his for a night. “How long do we have?” He asked, lifting his head up briefly.

“All night, if you want it,” she replied.

That sounded fucking perfect to him.

“I do,” he growled, and he leaned back down, resuming his assault with lips and teeth and tongue on that wonderfully pale, beautiful neck.

She was a little cold, but that was doing nothing to diminish his interest, and by the way she rolled her hips against the thigh he slotted between her legs, she was just as excited as him. Making the most dangerous woman alive mewl and plead sounded like an absolutely excellent way to spend his birthday, and Jack would have to think of a clever way to thank Gabe for this. Maybe he’d have a chat with the cute climatologist, the one that had come back from Antarctica not that long ago - he’d spotted Gabe throwing a look or two her way. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous - how long were you  _ here  _ for?” He asked, because he had to know.

“Long enough,” she said, and  _ damn,  _ he loved her voice, it was like silk, or velvet - velvet, yes. Rich and smooth and warm, making even English sound as sultry as her native French. “But the wait was  _ absolutely  _ worth it. Every single second.”

His teeth found the clasp of her bra, and he didn’t even bother using his hands, just pulled it apart with his mouth, lavishing kisses over her bared breasts. She whined needily, arching into his mouth, and he took a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it and then biting down just enough to draw a pleasured cry past her lips. She reached up and raked her perfectly manicured nails over the thick material of his suit at his back, making him shiver a little. 

He abandoned her breasts for the moment, and kissed lower, lavishing attention on every bit of exposed skin until he got to her panties. He passed those by, at first, tugging off her garter instead and letting it fall down to her ankle, before returning to her panties. They were dark with her juices, visible even against the black fabric, and he could see little streaks of slick on her thighs, sure signs that she was as aroused as he was. His pants felt just a little more uncomfortable at the thought.

“You’re excited,” he growled, and she grinned down at him, expression playful and sensual at the same time. 

“How could I be anything but?” She asked. “In bed with the legendary Strike-Commander of Overwatch? It’s enough to make a girl giddy, especially a girl who has been admiring your... _ work,  _ and  _ you,  _ for quite a long time,” she laughed, a little, and he grinned and tugged her panties down with his teeth, gripping the crotch and getting a wonderful hint of her taste. He drew a tongue over her folds, and she moaned, rolling her hips into his face. She was absolutely soaked already, and he’d barely put a hand on her. Every sign of how eager she was for him just made  _ him  _ more aroused; how else was he supposed to feel, in the face of a gorgeous young woman wanting him so very desperately? Who had apparently been wanting him for  _ quite a long time? _

She reached down and placed a hand on either side of his face, making him look up at her. 

“Let me give you a little show before you ravish me, hmm, Commander?” She offered, that same playful-seductive grin still plastered on her face. She bent forward and pulled him to her for a brief kiss, and she drew her tongue over his lips, licking her slick off with an easy, teasing motion.

God, the way she  _ purred  _ his title did things to him. If he could get her to call him that all night, he would be a  _ very  _ happy man.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Jack challenged, standing up and letting her off the bed, and she stood, sliding off her bra and kicking off her panties and garter in easy, sensual motions. He’d heard rumors she had been a ballerina before she fell in with Talon and became their deadliest crack shot; the grace with which she moved made him give more credence to them. Her steps were fluid and easy, the grace of a woman who was trained dancer and trained killer both. 

“Stay standing?” She asked, fluttering her eyelashes a little in a clear tease. The request made him curious, but he certainly wasn’t going to  _ deny  _ her.

“When you ask so nicely,” he replied. She swayed over to him, reaching up and undoing his tie. A low purr passed her lips as she did, and she twirled away, taking the tie with her and letting it slip from her fingers and onto the floor.

Oh. Oh,  _ hell,  _ this was going to be even better than he’d let himself imagine.

“Damn,” he growled, and she winked. She was...fucking  _ incredible,  _ really, and he was going to enjoy every second he had with her.

“Oh, Commander, I’ve barely started.” She sashayed over to him, hips swaying with the movement, and dropped her arms around his shoulders, rolling her entire body against his. She gave particular attention to pressing her thigh against his crotch, where the hard line of his cock was tenting his pants rather obviously.

The suit he was still wearing felt too damn restricting, and he wanted to tear it off and just get to fucking her, but her hands were making reasonably quick work of it anyway, sliding down to unbutton the jacket and then slide it off and to the ground. She moved away again, briefly, giving a little hip-sway and sliding her hands over her bare skin, cupping her own breasts and squeezing, accentuating the motion with a moan, and then tracing her hands further down. Her fingers slid between her legs, and she arched her back and moaned as she drew her fingers over her core, withdrawing them wet. 

She slipped them into her mouth, and licked her own juices off slowly and sensually, and Jack let out a low whistle.

“Come back over here and I’ll do that for you,” Jack offered in a low, sensual growl. 

“I hope you will,” Amélie replied, and she moved back to him, this time slipping behind and pressing up against his back as she undid first his belt, sliding it out of his pants, and then his shirt, untucking it and making slow, sensual work of undoing the buttons. When she went to undo his pants, she took a moment to cup his erection and squeeze it, just briefly. “Oh, this feels like it must  _ ache,  _ Commander,” she purred, false sympathetically. “Have you been like this all night? Should I have tried to find you earlier?” Her voice was pitched low and playful.

“Just since I walked in this room,” he replied, “and saw a gorgeous slut waiting for me to pound her on a pile of money.” Amélie let out a tiny little whine, and her hands were much quicker undoing his pants than they had been on any other article of his clothing. 

“You certainly know how to make a woman feel desired, Strike-Commander,” she said, sounding a little bit caught off guard. Given how thoroughly in control she’d seemed so far, Jack counted it as a victory that he’d managed to fluster her, even a little. 

“I haven’t even gotten started yet,” Jack said, in a mirror of her own previous words. She moved around in front of him and he stepped out of his pants and kicked off his shoes, and given the opportunity, with it presented to him perfectly, he reached over to slap that perfect blue ass. She jumped, a little, but the heated flush on her face and the tiny pleased noise she made suggested she enjoyed it. 

She gave another little sway of her hips, turning around to face him and sinking to her knees in one smooth motion. Once she was on her knees in front of him, she began to slowly pull down his boxers. When his cock sprang free, hard and ready and obviously eager, she let out a needy little moan and leaned forward to slowly draw her tongue from root to tip. A hand wrapped around the base, and she drew him into her mouth, groaning around his cock and beginning to bob her head up and down.

He let her do that for a little while, just luxuriating in how hot and wonderful her mouth felt, and then reached down, running his fingers through her hair to enjoy the silky texture of it flowing over them before gripping it tightly.

“Let me,” he growled, gruffly, and she nodded as best she could with a faceful of cock. He began to fuck in and out of her mouth, and she let go of his shaft, hands gripping his hips instead to steady herself against him. “God, you’re a talented fucking cocksucker, aren’t you, I bet you love doing this.” She moaned, and leaned forward so that the head of his cock bumped the back of her throat. Fuck if  _ that  _ wasn’t incredible; apparently Amélie Lacroix was a woman of very many, very  _ sexy  _ talents.

“You want to swallow my cock?” He asked, and she nodded. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he breathed, and he began to fuck in harder, hips snapping forward, pulling her head down until his cock was nestled in her throat and her face was against his groin. She didn’t even flinch, not a hint of a gag reflex, just took him eagerly and easily, like it was nothing at all. He hadn’t expected her to be  _ that  _ good, and it sent a hot thrill through him, practically yanking him to the precipice of orgasm. 

He felt her moan around him, and she swallowed, squeezing just right, and that was it - he was cumming down her throat in hot spurts. He slid his cock out to let her breathe, and to let the last bits of cum land on that perfect, pretty face. Her breathing seemed a little labored, but otherwise the only sign that she’d just swallowed his - not small, by any means - cock was the flush on her cheeks. She looked so good like that, on her knees, but as much as he would have loved to have her stay there, there was  _ so much else  _ he wanted to do to her.

Her tongue darted out to lick cum off her cheek, and she tilted her head to the side, looking mischievous. 

“Are we going to have to wait?” She asked, voice slightly rough, reaching up to stroke a finger over his shaft. At her touch, it began to harden again immediately, and her eyes went wide and dark with lust. “Oh,  _ non,  _ I see.” She looked fascinated, and leaned forward to give it an experimental lick, making it jump under her tongue.

He supposed it wasn’t every day a woman ran into a man who could keep going with barely any pause.

“I can go all goddamn night,” Jack said. One of the benefits of the SEP, even at his age, was advanced stamina in...practically everything, sex included. His refractory period was practically nonexistent, unless he went for a  _ real  _ marathon sex session, and he hadn’t had one of those in years. Maybe Amélie would indulge him, especally if she was going to be spending the entire night in his room.

“ _ Parfait, _ ” Amélie sighed, and she stood up, and as soon as she did, Jack gripped her arms and tossed her onto the bed, sending coins flying as they both landed. She grinned, laying with her arms above her head and her legs open, every inch of her body displaying exactly how ready she was for him. There was still a spatter of cum on her face, like a reminder that she was all his for the night. “Come here, Strike-Commander, and enjoy your gift,” she teased, beckoning.

“Oh, I’m going to,” Jack growled, reaching under her thighs to lift her legs up, settling them around his waist, and he gripped her hips and slid into her in one hard, solid thrust. She threw her head back and cried out, bucking her hips to meet his thrust. 

“ _ Yes,”  _ she breathed, voice airy and needy. 

“I’m gonna have a  _ damn good  _ time with you,” Jack promised, and with no hesitation, he started pounding into her, sending coins jungling and sliding around underneath them. An array of filth tumbled from Jack’s lips, and by Amélie’s little needy noises, she was enjoying it as much as he was. “So fucking gorgeous, fuck, perfect tits and a perfect ass and that  _ amazing  _ cocksucking mouth, and you’re so hot and wet for me, I bet you were thinking about it all night while you were waiting, did you touch yourself, wondering what I’d do to you when I got here?”  
“Yes,” Amélie breathed, “ _ oui,  _ I did, thinking about getting fucked by the Strike-Commander of Overwatch.”

“Should’ve waited until I was here,” Jack said, “so I could watch you do it.” She gasped, and then grinned wickedly.

“Perhaps we can amend that oversight later,” she suggested, voice low and dark. Jack snarled his agreement, and then reached down to grip one of her legs, pulling it up higher. She was  _ remarkably  _ flexible; if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he could fold her in half. Obviously, she still had plenty of her ballerina’s ability to bend. Her leg slotted easily onto his shoulder, and she rolled partway onto her side, opening her up and giving him a better angle to pound into her. He could see coins sticking to her back and her arms, held there by the light sheen of sweat that covered her entire body.

She let out a scream, and he felt her squeeze around him, but he kept going, fucking her through her orgasm and past it. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the bed, eventually finding the sheets under the pile of coins, and she began to plead desperately in French, reduced to her first language under the assault of pleasure.

_ “S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, plus fort, plus, j'en ai besoin, ne vous arrêtez pas _ ,” she gasped, and he knew enough French to know exactly what she was asking for, so he gladly gave to to her, slamming in with every thrust and making her cry out in desperate desire. He could feel coins - cold, at first, but warmed by their combined body heat - sticking to every point of contact he had with the pile on the bed, which was an entirely strange but fairly pleasant sensation. 

He was on top of the fucking world, really. Fucking one of the finest bounty hunter/assassins in the world on a pile of money was really the sort of thing only an incredibly powerful man got to do, and goddamn if this wasn’t making Jack feel like the most powerful man in the universe. 

Amélie cried out, again, and this time the tight squeeze of her orgasm was enough to pull him over, spilling hot and hard inside her.

He pulled out and lay down on the bed, finding a still-cold spot of coins, taking a moment to catch his breath and let her catch hers, but she obviously wasn’t eager to stop. She rolled over, straddling him, hand wrapping around his cock and stroking it back to hardness.

“Let me ride you?” she asked, and he grinned a little ferally.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he said, and she laughed.

“I do not think anyone has ever called me  _ that, _ ” she said, a little breathlessly, as she lifted herself up. She took her time sliding down onto him, groaning softly and arching her back as she did. “You are  _ so good, _ ” she gasped. 

“So are you,” Jack replied roughly, reaching around and grabbing her ass. He squeezed, hard, and she groaned. “God, before this night is over, I’m gonna fuck you  _ everywhere, _ ” he promised, and he meant it - all across the room and anywhere she’d let him stick his cock, frankly, because of this was his birthday present he was going to get as much out of it as possible. 

“Good,” she breathed, and she began to bounce, though unlike him, she took her time to work up to speed. After the frenzied, hard round of fucking, though, a slower pace was nice, and it gave him time to appreciate the view. Her head was thrown back, hair sticking to her shoulders and face, and her breasts bounced with each movement of her hips. She looked wonderfully wrecked, and somehow impossibly eager for more, and he couldn’t think of a better partner. She seemed to have just as much endless energy for sex as him - he wondered, briefly, if she did this often, and then decided it didn’t matter. She was his tonight, and he could have his way with her any way he so chose.

His hands moved to her hips, and he began to thrust into her, matching her bounces at first, and then speeding up the pace, which got her to speed up hers. 

“You look so fucking good riding my cock,” he said, “and I bet you love it, don’t you?”

“ _ Oui,  _ yes,” she said, groaning out her pleasure. He moved a hand between them to tease her clit, and she let out a sharp cry, bucking into his hand. “You are so good to me,” she said breathily.

“What else am I supposed to do with something so fucking perfect?” Jack asked rhetorically, and then he stroked her clit again, cutting off any reply she might have had as a moan ripped its way out of her throat. He was less rough with her, this time, because he had all night to do what he wanted and it wouldn’t do to wear her out on only the third round. This time, they came together, with mixed cries of pleasure that echoed around the room.

She fell forward, resting her hands on his chest to keep herself partially upright, and she grinned.

“Happy birthday, Strike-Commander Morrison,” she purred. He grinned right back at her, the same kind of slightly feral, mostly sensual expression she was wearing on his face.

Happy birthday  _ indeed. _

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr, at [noirsongbird!](http://noirsongbird.tumlr.com/)


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